


Over My Head

by Pirozhki



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, David King - Freeform, Dead by Daylight - Freeform, Dwight Fairfield - Freeform, Eventual Drama, I'll add more tags as chapters reel out, Kingfield - Freeform, M/M, Pizza!Dwight, Really don't want spoilers/hints, Romance, StarPlayer!David
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:08:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24042610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pirozhki/pseuds/Pirozhki
Summary: Dwight Fairfield's college experience has been nothing short of a "process." Never much for extracurricular activities, clubs or sports; a friend circle capable of being counted on one hand. Handling a mind-numbing part-time job at PizzaWhat! on the side, he wouldn't have expected anything more than speedy (or not) deliveries, disgruntled coworkers, and entitled customers when it came to working the food business. A comfortably reclusive life with his best friend slowly transitions into a new life-chapter, a welcome change to most but perhaps not to all..
Relationships: Dwight Fairfield/David King, Kingfield
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Over My Head

**Author's Note:**

> Yo!  
> My first time publishing anything, really. Comments are super welcome, any and all. I've had this written out for a few months though, along with another few chapters that I haven't exactly proof-read yet. I'd really like to continue uploading but I would definitely appreciate feedback. Need some motivation to post! :)  
> **Format might be a little wonky, posting to AO3 is very foreign to me so I'll get the hang of it soon enough!  
> **Tags will be updated as I upload chapters, I really want to avoid any spoilers/twists being yeeted in the tags haha.  
> **Summary was written on my lunch break, I'll be sure to revise it. :)

_"Is this the address? It’s got to be this house..."_ , Dwight thought. He’d circled the block at _least_ twice now, finding the correct address for his delivery yet refusing to accept the location for what it really was... _"Isn’t this..."_ he paused, ruminating - this is a frat house filled with all sorts of characters Dwight has tried to avoid his entire life, but he had a job to do, and money to earn. He couldn’t miss out on contributing towards rent this month, he had already let Jake down more times than he’d like to admit. Dwight unconsciously bit his fingernails, a reflex he had learned quickly at a young age to help cope with his uncontrollable nerves, and braced himself to deliver these pizzas.

“ _It’s fucking freezing outside.”_ He realized for the five hundredth time that he had forgotten his damn coat. The chilly October breeze was mild, but enough to make Dwight shiver on contact, the crisp yet inconsistent breaths of nature leaving him cursing short-lived obscenities under his breath as he relieved his car’s passenger seat of pizzas. He carefully made his way to the frat house door dressed in his standard pizza boy uniform and rang the doorbell, attempting to maintain his balance with the three stacked pizza boxes. (At least they served as a source of heat!)

“ _Okay, you’re okay, deep breaths...you’ll be fine...”_ He reassured himself. Before he knew it, the door opened and a masculine figure stood before him, indistinct chatter and fits of boisterous laughter filled his ears.  
“About time you showed up. Cuttin’ it pretty damn close to forty minutes there, bud. You can place ‘em on the table over there,” the tall jock behind the door frame mused, the half-hearted banter slightly settling his nerves. Maybe jocks weren’t all too bad?  
“My bad,” he murmured shyly, stepping inside and padding his way over to the table decorated with scattered beer bottles, and nearly-empty solo cups. He cringed his nose for a moment upon entering, multiple scents of the small crowd in the room filling his nose. It wasn’t necessarily a _bad_ smell, but the living room was definitely chock full of testosterone.

Dwight’s attention took notice of one guy in particular, sitting confidently in the crook of the couch with his arms stretched across the sides, his legs comfortably open and...was looking straight at him? Dwight met his gaze, immediately feeling his erratic nerves’ return and the waft of warm blood rush to his face.  
“‘Ere’s good, ” he motioned to a somewhat clear spot near the edge. Without hesitating, he placed the warm pizzas onto the coffee table. Feeling the sensory-overload in the room, he made quick with his habit of cupping his hands, holding them close to his chest idly. _God, why did he have to be so_ _awkward_ . The rather handsome jock spoke up once again, breaking the seemingly-eternal silence.  
“How much do I owe ya’ again?” he mused a little. “I wasn’ quite listen’n to the girl jabberin’ on over th’ phone.”  
“Forty,” Dwight’s voice cracked. _Damn it._ He can’t play it cool around guys like this, ever. Dwight fumbled with his hands as the man rummaged through his black jeans. With no sign of luck, he then stood from the couch with a disgruntled sigh, brows furrowed as he continued to shakedown his ensemble.  
Being the bashful type, Dwight slightly tucked his chin down, but couldn’t resist helping himself to a better look at the guy now that he was standing. A good seven or so inches taller than himself, so maybe a hair above six feet? Casual black suede boots, fancy watch adorning his wrist, white form-hugging shirt **—** _damn, was he_ _cut_ _._ Dwight mentally cursed himself before suddenly meeting gazes with him. “Ya’ catch that, mate?” _How long was he zoned out?! He must’ve looked so stupid!_ _  
_ As if being snapped out of his thoughts, Dwight’s words came out in a jumble in attempt to explain himself.  
“Huh? N-no, sorry. Say again?”  
“I said I must’a left my wallet in th’ car,” he motioned his thumb, pointing back towards the front door. “Asked if ye’ were gon’ follow me or make a bloke walk all by ‘is lonesome.”  
The guy was grinning, the small chuckle that followed his repeated words felt warm and...maybe something a _little_ more than friendly? The way he was acting, this hunk—guy, _guy._ This _guy_ didn’t seem to fit in with the crowd. It was obvious he was part of their school’s star rugby team, but he didn’t seem as big-headed or rowdy as the rest. Before Dwight could speculate the concept any more, Prince-Charming hopped to his feet to open the front door for him.  
“Oh! I-Uhm, thank you!” Dwight chirped, a hint of confidence blooming in his tone after the sweet gesture and cheeky smile he received from the larger male.  
“ _One in a million”_ he thought to himself, mentally shaking his head in bewilderment.

“Hate ta’ admit it but I ‘aven’t caught ye’r name yet,” the supposed-jock lied, considering Dwight's employee name was embroidered not only onto his cap, but his shirt as well. It was impossible to miss, especially with how long he'd scanned the nerd as soon as he stepped into his home, unbeknownst to Dwight of course. Nonetheless, the larger of the two exhibited a broad smile.  
Dwight pointed to his name sewn into his red cap, one brow raised and offered a grin dipped with disbelief.  
"Dwight, eh.." he let the name get around his tongue for a moment, the English accent proving it slightly difficult to pronounce smoothly. "Can't say I've me' many Dwights. 'M David. David King.”

Something about that name sounded familiar to Dwight as they continued to walk down the long driveway.  
_King...David King…_ Dwight thought to himself, mulling over the name. He heard it somewhere, maybe he shared a class with him? No, he would have definitely remembered that face. . .until it clicked. His good friend Quentin was their college’s main publisher for the school paper! He’d definitely seen the headlines in the computer lab a few times when bringing him lunch.  
_“Beast of the East: KING Lifts Pete Dawkins Trophy Again!”_ _  
_ _“KING Involved in Quarrel with Wallabies Fan After Defeat Against Belleville!”_ _  
_ _“DAVID KING: Lindenwood’s Rising Star Player Receives Championship Team Coach’s Attention!”_ _  
_ When Dwight returned from his memory-lane visit, he was standing beside David’s car, a classic sleek-black vintage Ford Falcon. He figured it _had_ to have been passed down, it was older than both of them put together! Dwight definitely wouldn’t consider himself a car-guy but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t in the slightest bit impressed.  
“A’right I’ll be jus’ a sec,” David flipped the keys into his palm after haphazardly twirling its ring around his finger . Unlocking it, he sat in the driver’s seat with one leg stretched out onto the driveway’s pavement, leaving the door wide open while leaning over the center console to perhaps get into the glovebox. Mustering up every ounce of self-control, Dwight gave it his all to not stare holes into David’s cut...muscular build.. _Damn it.._ Catching himself, he ungracefully jutted his chin upwards and away from the vehicle, practically forcing himself to look elsewhere. His eyes wandered aimlessly until he heard that gruff English voice pick up again.  
“Ahh, knew ‘e was in ‘ere somewhere! Woulda’ been a tad embarrassin’ if I came back up ‘ere dry,” David let out a hearty laugh as he stood, opening his wallet and lifting his head to meet Dwight’s eyes once again.  
“Ah, m' sorry. One more time for me, luv?”  
_Ba-bump._ Dwight’s heart pounded against his chest with little warning, his facial expression quickly changing to one of brief surprise, instantly followed by a newly-flustered complexion.  
“I..uh..it was uh…” _God, just spit it out!_ “Thi-thirty.”  
David’s brow lifted, “Thirty? Could’ve sworn I ’eard forty inside, but ’ll take the deal.”  
Dwight rummaged momentarily through his side bag for the transaction receipt and pulled a pen from his pocket. Upon raising his head he was handed two twenties but before he was able to open his mouth to tell the man he was handed extra, David adamantly raised a palm, sporting a confident smirk to stop the pizza boy from handing it back.  
“More towards ye’r tip, ‘luv. Keep ‘er,” he closed his vehicle’s door and stepped forward to sign the ticket, effortlessly slipped from Dwight’s fingertips. The jock then leaned back lightly against his car, beginning to sign away at the paper’s open spacing below.  
Internally Dwight felt the need to argue that he didn’t deserve a tip that generous but it didn’t take a genius to know that David’s reaction would be less-than unwavering.  
David seemed to pause mid-signature as if coming to a decision, then abruptly shifted to poise himself.  
  


“Ya’ happen to be doin’ anythin’ after ye’ done ‘ere?” The question came out gruff and throaty, dripping with intent but oh-so sly. Damn, he was straight-up textbook definition of “cool.”  
“Wh-what?” _You heard exactly what he said!_ “I-I uh mean ah..after this? Yes-wait I mean no, no I.. _don’t_ have anything going on..after work..” He took in a sharp breath to collect his scrambled thoughts. “Off in uh..” Another pause. A quick glance at his wristwatch, the time showed just a few ticks past 5 o’clock. “..a little more than an hour.”  
“‘Wouldn’t s’ppose you could be arsed for a nigh’ out’ wit’ a guy like me, would ya’?”  
Dwight's mind went blank.

_Did he just ask me out? This isn’t happening - this is a fucking dream._

“I-” Dwight swallowed hard unexpectedly, searching for the right thing to say with hopes that his mouth could actually form a response without choking.  
David’s brow raised, awaiting an answer from the dumbfounded pizza boy. “Yeah! S-sure. What time?” The jock eased his calloused hands into his pockets, effortlessly looking as if his life was always a constant photoshoot. _Did he even have a 'bad side..?'_ _  
_ “‘Say I scoop ya ‘bout seven-thirty?” David rhythmically tapped the pen against the receipt before handing it back to Dwight. "Call me, tex', wh'ever ya' feel, luv."  
He gave the starstruck delivery boy a final once-over tailed with a cool, satisfied nod. "'ll see ya' then." Before he knew it, he was making his way back up the driveway, leaving Dwight feeling nothing short of smitten.

Almost as if he was on auto-pilot, he repositioned his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, clambered into his rinky-dink car, and closed the door. Dwight finally managed to collect himself, feeling the smooth paper between his fingertips. His gaze wandered down to the somewhat-sloppy handwriting on the ticket, thumb instinctively brushing over the signature for any indentations.

A phone number.

_He just got a_ _phone number._

Dwight caught himself holding it close to his chest for a few moments before pulling his phone out to save the digits. He anxiously debated on whether he should text now him or later. For yet another time in his life, he decided to attempt to ‘play it cool.’  
“ _I’ll text him when I get back to the parlor,”_ he convinced himself, swallowing the urge to instantly send his number to the guy. Releasing a shallow breath, he folded the receipt in two halves, then proceeded to tuck it between the plexiglass on his dashboard.  
Starting the engine, releasing his white-knuckled grip from the wheel he reminded himself again. _  
_ _“Play it_ _cool._ _”_

**Author's Note:**

> I really appreciate the read!  
> Let me know what you thought about the chapter below, whether it be about formatting, plot, typos, hell maybe even the way I write out David's accent is giving you a headache/is god awful, let me know ! Haha. :)


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